


The Price of Freedom (Vol. 1)

by HouseNaelgyreon



Series: The Price of Freedom [1]
Category: The Boys (Comics), The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: African Folklore, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bisexual Female Character, Character Development, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, Female Character of Color, M/M, NSFW, New York City, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge, Revenge Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Strong Female Characters, Superheroes, Vaginal Sex, Violence, ethiopia, extreme violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-20 05:16:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20669924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseNaelgyreon/pseuds/HouseNaelgyreon
Summary: Everything has a price. The main factor of the value of an item is how much you're willing to pay for it.Vought Internation has sought to establish control of the world through any means necessary. Through many years of trial and error, the company has finally found a new way to grasp the control they seek: Superheroes. After pouring countless dollars and hours into this project, Vought finally found their ideal weapon for world domination.It also isn't a bad thing either that their lab-made superheroes bring in billions of dollars either.These men and women—worshiped by some and hated by others—are bearly controlled though, kept in line by fat checks and luxury weekend getaways. But there is one who both longs for freedom from Vought's leash while also desiring to carve out his own path: Homelander, Vought's Golden Boy. But Homelander isn't a saint, nor is he alone in his hunger for freedom against Vought. Years ago She escaped from a lab, and after spend a lifetime hidden, it's time for Her to reveal Herself.How much are you willing to pay for your freedom?





	1. Prolouge

_“Another failure!”_

_Doctor Zahera Tariku’s eyes darted to the source of her supervisor’s anger, a mere 18-month-old babe sitting within a crib. Normally, people would melt at the sight of babies, there was a chemical in the brain that made it so. But not so in this situation. This situation was different, as this small child was seen as an object, a subject, an item to be used rather than as a living being._

_The Baby’s light-green eyes observed the arguing adults, her head tilting to the side in curiosity. She knew what they were arguing about, her of course, she was used to it by now though. The man in the suit always seemed to hate her for some reason, although the Baby did not know why. She always tried her hardest to please them, but no matter what she did seemed to make them happy._

_“Please sir,” Doctor Tariku was pleading. “Give her another chance! She’s still so young, all she needs is time!”_

_Her Supervisor shook his head. “This is a business, Doctor, and we’ve put almost a billion dollars into Her. I’ve given you chance after chance to make Her obey, to listen, and you’ve failed every time!”_

_Doctor Tariku’s lip quivered. “Please Sir, I know she can prove her worth! She doesn’t respond well to you… requested methods of control. I’ve learned that to get her to do what you want, you must be kind and…”_

_“Kind?” her Supervisor snorted. “Treat her with kindness? Doctor Tariku, I would assume that you like the Subject.”_

_Doctor Tariku bit her bottom lip. She was walking a fine line. She was brought to oversee the development of the Subject, nothing more. But she couldn’t help but feel a motherly instinct to the child, alone being in this world being trained to be a living weapon._

_“You misunderstand me, Sir,” Doctor Tariku said, choosing her words carefully. “I meant only to explain that in some instances, positive reinforcement is better than negative punishments.”_

_“And when She goes out into the world, she’ll expect it to be nothing but glitter and rainbows,” Her Supervisor snapped. “I’ve given you instructions on how to handle Her, and it’s clear that you haven’t been following them, or else She wouldn’t be so coddled. My decision is final, She’s to be exterminated. Before you do, collect her brain cells and inner DNA. We’ll try again.”_

_Doctor Tariku’s stomach dropped to her feet as her Supervisor strode out of the room, no doubt believing the matter settled. Her hands trembled as she clutched her clipboard, Doctor Tariku’s eyes traveling back to the babe in Her cradle. The woman had both heard of and seen several Kill Order’s carried out, all Doctors were forced to watch. Babies that couldn’t live up to the company’s standards were exterminated, their files wiped, and their DNA collected to try again._

_The little girl in her cradle was beautiful, without blemishes, smart, and was quite willful; but what exactly was the problem._

_That girl wouldn’t ever be the mindless drone that Vought International wanted, and they hated that. The company was making these superpowered babies for a reason, and nothing that wasn’t their idea of perfect would make the cut. If that meant culling what they deemed as ‘weak’, then that would happen._

_But Doctor Tariku couldn’t let that happen, she wouldn’t let that happen._

* * *

_Later that evening was when the extermination was supposed to take place, and Doctor Tariku was ready._

_The small Babe was brought into an operating room and laid into a table, a gas mask placed over her face. The anesthesia was half of what it was supposed to be, which was good, as the Doctor needed the little girl awake. She leaned down next to her ear as the other surgeons prepped their instruments for the DNA extraction._

_“Little One,” Doctor Tariku whispered. “Wake up, these people plan to harm you. It’s time to Play.”_

_‘Time to Play’ was a trigger word that Doctor Tariku had taught to her little charge, in which the Girl was allowed to use her powers any way she wanted._

_At the sound of these words, the Girl awoke, her light-green eyes glowing red as laser beams shot out. The Surgeons all screamed as the heated rays blasted them in the backs, burying into their chest and coming out on the other sides. One by one they were all cut down, and once they were dead, Doctor Tariku hurried to unhook the IV lines and other cords from the Girl, gently shaking her to rouse her to full conscience._

_Picking up the Girl, Doctor Tariku grabbed a jacket and wrapped Her in it and then putting Her into a medical waste kart. If they were lucky, then the couple would get at least to one of the back rooms in the lower deck before anyone found out what had happened. Doctor Tariku had jammed the camera feed before all of this happened, so her fingers were crossed._

_Casually, Doctor Tariku left the medical room and closed the door behind her, whistling to herself as she walked down the halls. She had just rounded a corner when the alarms began to scream, no doubt because some medical intern or someone walked into the room to find it a slaughter fest. Frantic now, Doctor Tariku knew that she didn’t have time to waste._

_“STOP HER!” Security Officer’s yelled, pointing to Doctor Tariku. “STOP HER!”_

_Reaching inside the kart for the Girl, Doctor Tariku ran down the halls, shoving people out of her path, while also holding the Girl close to her chest. She could see it, the door to freedom, they were almost there!_

_Suddenly a force slammed into Doctor Tariku’s side, knocking the older woman to the ground and sending the Girl flying from her grasp._

_“Don’t move, you bitch,” the Security Officer growled into Doctor Tariku’s ear. He grasped his walkie-talkie. “This is Officer Hobbs. I have the traitorous doctor and the Subject. We are in—ahk!”_

_The Officer let out a strangled scream as his head was abruptly twisted around, cleanly snapping his neck. Doctor Tariku pushed the body off her as she scrambled backward, her eyes widening in horror at what she saw. The Girl was floating behind the Officer, her eyes glowing red, her small hands still gripping the hair she had gripped to twist his head around._

_“Gud?” the Girl asked, looking to Doctor Tariku for approval._

_Doctor Tariku bit her bottom lip. She should be grateful for what happened after all the Girl had saved her life. Yet, the Doctor did not like the idea of this baby killing._

_“No,” Doctor Tariku finally said, shaking her head as she stood to her feet. “Not good. Killing innocent people is not good.”_

_“Not… gud…” the Girl repeated slowly._

_“Yes,” Doctor Tariku said, taking the Security Officer’s badge. “Not good. I will teach you how to… control yourself. But first, we have to get out of here.”_

_Returning to her condo here in New York was too dangerous, Doctor Tariku figured, nor could she go to just any police station for help. Vought International had people all over the country, and all over the world in the major countries. Except… for one… An idea came to Doctor Tariku as the two made their escape into the cold, New York City air; they would go to the last place Vought would expect._


	2. Chapter 1: Hidden and Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fate of the baby girl rescued from Vought International is revealed.
> 
> P.S. Picture of the Doctor and the fully aged Girl at the bottom

A lone woman jogged down the streets of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, African pop music blasting through her earbuds. Humming the song to herself, she turned to run down an alley for a short cut home. The bright, flashing lights of the city disappeared and instead was replaced by cool quiet, and swelling darkness.

The air instantly changed.

The tension so thick that it could be cut with a knife, and the Woman sensed it.

Slowing down to a stop, the Woman took out one earbud and looked around, her light-green eyes sweeping the alley.

The first sign of trouble came when the empty echo of a kicked can filled the alley. The metal object rolled until it came to a stop in front of the Woman, sparking her curiosity. Slowly, she bent down to pick it up, only to feel the icy-cold prick of a knife against her neck.

“Don’t move, you bitch,” growled a deep voice behind the Woman.

The man was speaking Amharic, the official language of Ethiopia, which the Woman could easily understand.

“Stand up,” the Man barked. “Slowly!”

The Woman obeyed, she forced herself not to make any sudden movements as she slowly rose to her feet, then lifted her hands in surrender.

“I don’t have any money with me,” the Woman said, keeping her voice steady. “Let me go, please.”

The Man chuckled; the wickedly dark vibration felt like ice upon the Woman’s spine. “Oh, don’t worry,” he purred. “My friends and I have a… another idea of payment for tonight.”

Three other men emerged from the shadows, the wicked grins of their faces and the gleam in their eyes told the Woman exactly what they had planned for her.

“Please,” she begged. “Don’t do this… Please, just let me go!”

The Man holding the knife grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her to him. “Don’t fight it and we’ll go easy on you.”

He buried his face into her neck only to frown, something was wrong. The woman’s midnight-black curls became loose in his hands, her scalp seemingly peeling off her head. No, it wasn’t her scalp that was coming loose… it was a wing.

The Man’s eyes narrowed in confusion as the black wig fell from the woman’s head and her true hair could be seen, her white hair.

“But you see that’s the problem,” the Woman whispered, turning her head to look at the Man. “I’m not going to go easy on you.”

Before the Man could process her words as a sickening crunch filled his ears. Pain shot through his body, forcing the Man to look down and see that this woman has crushed his hand in her small hand. Blood poured from the wounds as gagged bones protruded from the Man’s destroyed hand, the soft dripping a whisper upon the cobbled path.

The Woman smirked and grabbed the front of Man’s shirt, winking at him as she lifted him as if he weighed no more than a feather, and threw him.

His three partners watched in horror as the Man slammed into a wall, his body compressing like an accordion. Blood, guts and brain matter sprayed in all directions, coating the faces and hands of the Man’s partners.

“I wonder how many other women you’ve forced your limp cocks into,” the Woman said, cracking her knuckles as she stalked the remaining three men. “Doesn’t matter, I’m the last thing you’re going to see tonight.

No one stood a chance against her.

The Woman moved with the speed and agility that could only be matched by gods, at least that was what they believed. By the time the Woman was finished, the men were nothing more than bloody puddles and dismembered limbs. Well, that wasn’t all the way true. For the last man, the Woman used her heat vision to melt his brain before crushing his head in with her boot.

Still, the job was finished.

The Woman looked down at her bloody hands, annoyed. Her mother hated it when she came home bloody, thank goodness they did their own laundry or else people would be asking strange questions. She sighed, looking around at her handiwork, nodding to herself in approval. There was nothing to tie her to this event, and she made sure to grab her wig before leaving.

Still, she used her enhanced vision to look around the alley once more to make sure she didn’t miss anything. Once satisfied, she put back in her earbuds, gathered herself, and took off into the sky.

* * *

Zahera Tariku was not a happy woman.

The day had started off fine, she had seen plenty of patients at the free clinic that she owned. Her lunch was delicious leftovers from the night before. She even had a date tomorrow evening with another fellow doctor. Everything was perfect—until her daughter landed on the roof, bloody from attacking four would-be rapists.

“Semira Endale Beheilu,” Zahera scolded. “What the fucking hell is wrong with you?”

Semira held up her hands. “In my defense, I didn’t go looking for trouble this time. Trouble just came to me.”

Zahera pinched the bridge of her nose. “What’s my rule…?”

“I can do all the crime-fighting I want, as long as it’s under the radar and I don’t leave a trail,” Semira quoted.

“Exactly,” Zahera snapped. “And a flying, bloody, white-haired bullet is sure to leave a damn trail! You didn’t think to put the wig back on?”

Semira shrugged. “Sorry, didn’t cross my mind.”

Zahera sighed, collapsing in a chair. For the past twenty-five years, she had kept Semira hidden and safe from those who would turn her into a living weapon, at least that was her goal. Vought International had long given up the search to find them after so long, but it didn’t help that her daughter always was pushing her boundaries.

“Take off her clothes and go take a shower,” Zahera finally said. “I’m sure I have the stuff to get that blood out… Also, I have to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?” Semira asked, taking off her light jacket as she walked to her bathroom to do as instructed.

Once there, she took off the rest of her clothes and got into the shower. The young woman turned on the water as hot as it could go, but she never could really feel the heat upon her skin. It was bulletproof, knife proof, nothing on this planet could harm her; how could she expect for some hot water to penetrate it?

Semira remembered an incident of her youth when she was still learning about who she was and what she could do. Her mother was boiling water on the stove and stepped away to answer a phone call when Zahera returned she found Semira floating in front of the pot with her hand inside the boiling water.

At that time the young woman didn’t feel anything but a slight warmth against her fingertips, and that was water straight from the stove. Still, it was a good illusion.

“Is something the matter?” Semira asked her mother above the spray of water.

“Not… exactly,” Zahera replied hesitatingly.

Semira frowned. Her mother was a brave woman, in fact, she was the only person in the world that Semira herself feared. If Zahera was worried about something, then it had to be serious.

Quickly, the young woman finished her shower, dried herself off, and put on some clothes before hurrying to the living room where Zahera.

“_Imayē_,” Semira whispered, using the affectionate Amharic term for ‘_mother_’. “Please, tell me what is the matter.”

Zahera sighed and took her daughter’s hands in hers. “Semi… do you remember what I told you when you were growing up, why I took you away from Vought International?”

Semira nodded. “Yes. You said that they were planning on using me and the others like weapons.”

“That is correct,” Zahera said, taking a deep breath. “I have received information, from an informant I have in New York, that Vought is close to fulfilling their goal… through people like you.”

This piqued Semira’s interest. She knew that there were people out there like her, ‘supes’ at the media preferred to call them. They came in various forms and had various agenda but they all had one connection: just like her, Vought had created them all.

“What does this have to do with us?” Semira asked.

“According to my informant, Vought is pushing hard to get their people into the military,” Zahera continued. “And I don’t have to tell you what that means.”

“They’ll have control of key people in various governments, securing their control of the world,” Semira said. “Imayē, I know this. You’ve told me countless times.”

Zahera chuckled. “I know, _lijē_, I know.”

She cupped Semira’s cheek, gazing tenderly into the face of the girl she had saved, raised, and trained from that horrible place. At nights though, Zahera still awoke from terrible nightmares, the echoes of screaming culled test-tube babies filling her ears. Semira had been spared that fate, but so many more were still in ‘bondage’, as Zahera saw it.

Her face then grew serious. “I believe,” Zahera said, taking a deep breath. “That it’s time for you to reveal herself.”

Semira’s heart skipped a beat. Since she was a baby, herm others had trained her to control and use her powers for good, all the while telling Semira that she had to stay hidden.

“B-B-But…” Semira stammered.

Zahera silenced her with a gentle finger upon her lips. “I know that you plan to protest, but I wouldn’t ask this of you if the fate of the world wasn’t at stake. Semira,” she took her daughter’s hands. “You are strong, stronger than anyone in the world I believe. You can do this. But… I will not force you to do anything that you don’t want to.”

Semira bit her bottom lip. She was conflicted. She wanted to do this, she wanted to show her mother that all the training they had done over the years was not for naught. But deep down, butterflies fluttered within her stomach. Yet, at the same time, Semira felt another emotion: a lust for revenge.

Vought International had made her, they thought they owned her, and for years they had tried to hunt the two down. The couple had many close calls through their life, and only recently felt a sense of peace, but it was fleeting. If there was a chance for them to feel that permanently, Semira would take it.

“I’ll do it,” Semira finally said. “I’ll do it, and I’ll show Vought that I’m not ‘weak’. I’ll make them regret giving the order to cull me.”

Zahera beamed with pride as she hugged Semira tightly, well, as tight as she could. Semira knew she couldn’t hug her mother back, else she’d fear that she’d hurt the woman. “That’s my girl.”

“When do we pack?” Semira asked.

“Today and tomorrow,” Zahera replied. “I’ll call my informant and see if we can get a safe house, hopefully, I’ve aged enough that Vought doesn’t recognize me, but I might not leave the building for a while. That’ll leave you to do most of the world.”

Semira shrugged with a playful smirk. “Something I’m used to doing,” she teased.

Zahera laughed. “Come on, let’s get ready.”

* * *

**Semira Endale Beheilu**

**____**

**Doctor Zahera Giday Tariku**


	3. Chapter 2: Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semira and Zahera arrive in New York and meet The Boys. After a tense standoff, they agree to work together. At the end of the chapter, Semira meets The Homelander and it does NOT go well... for him at least.
> 
> Semira's outfit at the end of the chapter.

Hughie Campbell had never been a lucky man growing up. He was shy, quiet, nervous about the unknown, yet he made it work. His saving grace was his girlfriend Robin, a girl who knew what she wanted and took it without question, Hughie was undeniably in love with her.

But then that terrible day happened, a day that Hughie would never forget.

He and Robin were taking a casual stroll, when out a nowhere something slammed into Robin, making her explode into a million pieces. Hughie was frozen, gripping Robin’s detached arms, her blood dripping down his face. A-Train, an American superhero, was the one who had ran through her; but he didn’t seem to be that worried.

“I’m sorry,” A-Train had said. “I can’t stop, I can’t stop.”

Then, he was gone.

The tears came before Hughie could stop them, as did his howls of internal pain. Robin was his love, his one true love, how could this man just casually run right through her then disappear? It didn’t make sense!

When the lawyers from Vought International came to ‘make amends’ for what A-Train had done, their words just flew over Hughie’s head. He didn’t want some damn piece of paper of monetary value, he wanted his girlfriend back! No, he wanted revenge.

Then, seemingly out of blue, a man named Billy Butcher appeared. Claiming to work for the CIA, Butcher told Hughie that he could help him get the vengeance he wanted against A-Train, as well as Vought International who enabled the man.

Although violence was not Hughie’s way, his hunger to avenge his murdered girlfriend was strong, and thus he agreed.

However, according to Butcher, they needed to assemble his team: ‘The Boys’, a Butcher called them.

First, there was the Frenchman, whom Butcher preferred to be called Frenchie. The Frenchman was… unpredictable, to say the least. While a genius when it came to weapons, the moment one made fun of his accent or called him a name, Frenchie would bash their head in.

Secondly, there was The Female (of the Species), named thus by Frenchie. Years ago, The Boys rescued her from being hunted down by Vought International covert team, and after forming a sort of a bond with Frenchie, joined their team. Like him though, The Female could be unpredictable, yet her methods of combat were much more brutal.

Lastly, there was Mother's Milk, a hulking African-American man who had to possess the coolest head in the group. Hughie pegged the man to perhaps be a mixture between himself and Frenchie, although Mother’s Milk could be as ferocious as The Female is need be.

Hughie was still unsure if he belonged in this assembled crowd, but it was too late for him to back out now. If this was a group that was going to help him find justice for Robin, then he guesses that they’d have to do.

* * *

Semira stood in the middle of Time’s Square, her head tilting up to gaze upon buildings that seemed to touch the clouds. Never before had Semira seen structures that tall before, and she was tempted to fly up and see how high they really did reach, but she forced herself not too.

She and her mother had recently arrived in New York City, and Semira didn’t exactly know what their plan was. It felt strange to be here in the land that Semira was created, Zahera swore she’d never bring her daughter here again; but she had no choice.

“Have you heard from your informant?” Semira asked.

Zahera nodded. “He gave me an address to go to, and a person to talk too, but that was it.”

Semira crossed her arms with a frown. “I don’t like this… For all you know, this could be a trap.”

“Good thing I got you at my side then,” Zahera said, playfully nudging Semira as the two hailed a taxi.

The man driving the car looked at Semira with clear lust in his eyes, but the young woman merely rolled hers. If she had her way, Semira would have fried his brain then and there for daring to look at her like that; but she didn’t want to make a scene.

No sooner than the taxi began to move, did Semira get her first sight of a North American superhero.

Down the street, a robbery was taking place at a bank, and Semira watched as a woman dressed in armor and a man in red, white, and blue, charged into it. A crowd had gathered to watch, blocking Semira’s view, even preventing her from using her enhanced sight.

“Should I help?” Semira whispered to her mother.

Zahera shook her head. “You can’t reveal yourself too soon. Besides, you should watch and learn first, then make your move.”

Semira nodded but craned her neck to try and get a better look, pouting when it could not be so. She was bubbling over with curiosity and wanted nothing more than to see who these superheroes were. Part of her wondered if they could be trusted if they could be friends or foe. Could they have a hatred of Vought as she did, or there they like puppies, hungering to serve their masters? There were so many unanswered questions that Semira possessed, but she trusted her mother to guide her.

The taxi came to a stop in front of a worn-down warehouse, the appearance of which didn’t impress Semira. It wasn’t the only warehouse in the area, but it looked to be in the worst condition.

Surely this could be where Zahera’s informant resided?

Semira watched her mother pay the taxi driver and nodded for her to follow, leading the young woman around the side of the warehouse and to a flimsy door.

“So… is there a drug dealer we’re meeting or…?”

Zahera shook her head and instead put her finger to her lips to silence, before knocking twice then pushing the door in. Semira followed after her mother obediently, the two entering the dark warehouse which contained only light in the center.

Semira frowned, her body growing stiff at the tense air. Something was wrong, something felt… off…

Movement in the corner of Semira’s eye made the young woman act. Grabbing her mother, she yanked Zahera out of the way, spinning around as she backhanded someone hard across the face. The person crashed into something heavy, followed by the clicking of guns, red dots appearing on Semira and Zahera’s chests.

“What the fuck?!” someone yelled in the darkness.

“Did you see that?!” another yelled. “She just bitch-slapped Zhe Female!”

“And I’ll do a lot worse then that if you don’t get your asses out of the damn shadows,” Semira threatened, her eyes glowing white.

“Semi, stop it,” Zahera commanded before turning back to the darkness. “Please, forgive my daughter, she did not mean it. My name is Doctor Zahera Giday Tariku and I was sent by Lieutenant Colonel Greg D. Mallory to find someone called Billy Butcher. If we are in the wrong location, I’m sorry.”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

One by one large overhead lights came to light, and Semira saw that she and her mother were surrounded by four men and one woman, the woman of which bore a nasty bruise from where Semira had ‘bitch-slapped’ her.

A man with black hair and trench coat stepped forward, although he still held his gun tightly in his fist, pointed at Semira. “What the fuck do you want with me?”

“You’re Billy Butcher?” Zahera said.

“In the fuckin’ flesh,” Butcher said. “Now answer my question: what the fuck do you want from me and my Boys?”

“I am a friend of Greg D. Mallory,” Zahera explained. “He’s been my informant here, in the United States, while I lived in hiding in Ethiopia.”

“Why were you in Ethiopia?” an African-American man asked.

“I was hiding from Vought International,” Zahera said. “I’m sure that you know of them?”

“Why is Vought after you?” Butcher asked, slowly lowering his gun.

“Because they’d like nothing more than to kill me, and steal my daughter,” Zahera said, nodding to Semira. “I believe… we should talk.”

* * *

Semira hovered protectively behind her mother as Zahera told her story to this handful of strangers, looking at them each, one-by-one.

The one called Billy Butcher, Semira liked the least. He seemed so pent up full of hatred and anger of something, his blue eyes darting up every now and then to look at Semira, his nose wrinkling as if she disgusted him.

The African-American man—named strangely to be Mother’s Milk—seemed to be the most level headed, he asked the most questions like Zahera spoke as if desiring to get as much information as possible.

The man that spoke with a French accent—unceremonially named the Frenchman or Frenchie—was murmuring to himself, as well as whispering to the one called Butcher every now and then. Semira didn’t need to use her enhanced hearing to know that they were talking about her, not that she cared anyway.

The woman’s bruised face—The Female—had healed almost as quickly as the bruise had formed. Semira expected her to look at her with intense hatred, but no, it was… respect maybe? Semira didn’t know for sure, but it wasn’t in anger.

Lastly, the scrawniest man—Hughie Campbell—looked as if he did not belong in this group. He was fidgeting, glancing at her nervously, looking to Butcher for guidance. Semira didn’t know what a man like him was doing with this group of people. Everyone but him seemed as if they would easily—and gladly do to if need be—kill anyone without a second thought.

“So, let me get this straight,” Mother's Milk said once Zahera was finished talking. “You used to work for Vought International as one of their lead scientists and doctors, but left because of her?” he pointed to Semira.

“To put it shortly, yes,” Zahera said. “Vought was going to kill her, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

“So, then she’s a supe…” Butcher said slowly, almost through gritted teeth.

“A what?” Semira asked, speaking for the first time since they had sat down to tall.

“It’s what most of the media calls those people Vought International have on their payroll,” Mother's Milk replied. “So… what exactly can you do?”

“Everything that the one called The Homelander can do and more,” Zahera replied.

That was a new name, Semira had never heard it before, but figured if her mother knew who he was, then he must be important.

“Fuckin’ great,” Butcher growled. “We have a fuckin’ psychopathic nuclear bomb on our hands.”

Semira’s eyes cut sharply in his direction, but Zahera out her hand on her daughter’s arm.

“I can assure you, Mr. Butcher, my daughter is not ‘psychopathic nuclear bomb’. She’s been raised and taught by me to have compassion, empathy, and protect the innocent without the desire for monetary reward. Unlike the heroes here, I have heard from.”

The Frenchman snorted. “She has a point zhere.”

“How do you know Mallory?” Butcher asked, tilting his head. “I’m curious.”

“He found me,” Zahera replied. “When I was on the run with Semi. Helped us stay one step ahead of Vought, helped us settle in my home country.”

“So then, I guess the most important question is, what do you want or hoping to gain from being here and helping us?” Butcher asked.

“All I want is for my daughter to be safe,” Zahera said. “Semi’s not a little girl anymore, she can take care of herself, but I don’t want the horrors she went through as a child to happen to anyone else. We are here to take Vought down, Mallory said that you were the one to come too to help.”

Butcher nodded and began to pace, his mind racing as he thought this over. He despised supes with all his being, with Homelander being at the top of his list. This could be a trap, yet it might not be. This woman clearly knew Mallory well, and Mallory wouldn’t send that anyone to him. At the same time, it would be beneficial to have a supe like this girl on his team for the time being; if things went badly, then he needed someone who could carry her weight. After all, not just anyone could toss The Female like a ragdoll.

“Fine,” Butcher finally said. “But it’s going to get crowded here…”

“I can help with money and getting you equipment,” Zahera said. “As well as anything else you might need.”

“What we need is more information on Vought, and what they want to do with these supes,” Butcher replied. “But we have no way to get that.”

Mother's Milk rubbed his chin. “They are throwing a party to celebrate that new member joining their team in a couple of days. You have to have either an invite or be a supe to get in…”

Butcher smirked, looking to Semira. “And guess what we have…”

* * *

Vought International’s office was packed with no less than two hundred people. Big wigs in the company. American’ politicians. International politicians. Human celebrities. And then there was the supe’s, only a select few had received that golden ticket to this event. Any and everyone was here. Alcohol flowed freely. Food from all over the world was carried around on gilded platters. No expense had been spared for this event, after all, it was one for the ages.

A new member was going to join The Seven tonight, and the higher-ups at Vought wanted the world to see this. If this wasn’t to get their supes into the military, it would at least get the conversation started.

Semira exited her rented limo slowly, entering a world of the blinding camera lights as people she didn’t know all scrambled to take her picture.

“Who are you?” a reporter asked.

“Who are you wearing?” another asked.

“Are you a supe? Why aren’t you in uniform?” another asked.

Semira was awestruck, her mouth dropping as she became mute, unsure what to say. Never before had she been asked all these questions, nor did she know exactly what to say.

“It’s alright, Semi,” Zahera’s voice whispered in Semira’s earpiece. “You can do this. You don’t have to answer their questions truthfully, but give them something.”

Semira nodded and took a deep breath, forcing a smile upon her face. “I’m honored to be here tonight,” she said, turning herself so that they could get a better look at her outfit. “I’m wearing an Elsabet Afewerek original, made for me and me alone.”

It was a lie, of course, Zahera had made Semira’s dress, but these reporters didn’t need to know that. The outfit that Semira wore was a floor-length dress made of white muslin cloths, a thick belt made of gold, green, blue, and red thread was wrapped around her slender waist; and a matching ‘collar’ was around her neck. It was in the halter-form, baring Semira’s back. Her white hair was bound in a simple bun at the top of her head, covered by headwrap that matched her dress. The makeup on Semira’s face was simple, her jewelry consisted of a ring-bracelet combo, and golden sandals completed her look.

Semira allowed the reporters to take a couple more pictures before she walked confidently inside the building, accepting the offered glass of champagne from a server. Gentle jazz music filled the air, people laughed and flirted, supes mingled with humans. It was quite the sight for Semira, who was used to being the only of her kind around. It would have been easy for the young woman to have been struck mute with wonder, but she had a job to do.

“Semi?” Zahera whispered. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Semira replied. “Just… looking at everything.”

Butcher groaned. “You’re not there to enjoy yourself, Luv. You’re there to plant the damn bugs.”

“If you think that you can do a better job, ass wipe, come on down here and do it yourself,” Semira hissed. “No? Then shut the fuck up and let me do my job.”

“Semi… language,” Zahera scolded.

“Sorry,” Semira apologized.

The tension between Butcher and Semira hadn’t thinned, nor did Zahera believe it would any time soon. Still, they were going to have to figure out a way to set their petty feud aside so that this job would be done.

Semira began to walk around, flashing smiles and working the room. It wasn’t long before she caught the attention of several people, most were male supes who no doubt were looking for a good fuck. Semira forced herself to not laugh, knowing that all the men in this room were beneath her. However, what she did not know was that an important pair of eyes were watching her, eyes that liked what they saw.

“You’re going to burn a hole into her, if you keep staring like that,” Queen Maeve said to Homelander.

Homelander forced himself to tear his gaze away from the young woman who had held his attention hostage and instead turned to look at his partner. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Queen Maeve rolled her eyes and smirked, taking what had to be her seventh drink of the night from a server. “You know, you could easily go talk to her… You’re ‘The Homelander’, all you have to do is snap your finger and she’d rip her clothes off.”

Homelander arched an eyebrow. He didn’t know why Queen Maeve was being so nice all of a sudden. Normally, there was an unspoken line that was between them, well really it had to do that Homelander was the only person in the world that Queen Maeve feared. Homelander didn’t like the woman, but some part of him respected her, although it wasn’t much.

He turned back to look in the direction of the young woman he had been watching, only to see that she was gone. Homelander grew confused by his emotions, as he found himself… disappointed that she was gone? No, that couldn’t be right. Homelander wasn’t disappointed by anything, he was The Homelander. Women fought gladiatorial matches to spend an hour with him, so him getting upset over a simple woman didn’t make any sense.

“Enjoying the party?” a voice that Homelander despised said behind the man.

Homelander slowly turned around to find himself face-to-face with James Stillwell, the VP of Vought International. The man had to be only a couple of years older than Homelander himself, was scrawny and weak, yet he held all the power over ‘American’s Golden Boy’. It made Homelander sick.

“Yes,” Queen Maeve said, accepting another drink. “It’s quite the event.”

“Only the best for The Seven,” Stillwell said. “Have you seen her? The little ball that’s going to ‘light up’ the Seven?”

They, of course, we're talking about Starlight, a girl chosen to replace one of their ‘retiring members’; not that anyone cared really. The public were the only ones who were crazy over shit like this, Homelander didn’t much care. He has his mind on other things right now: finding that Young Woman who had captured his attention before.

“Pretty but scrawny little thing,” Queen Maeve remarked.

“Hopefully the boys don’t mess with her too badly,” Homelander said without thinking.

Stillwell frowned. “She’s new. I don’t want you guys ‘breaking her in’. Not yet at least.”

Homelander said nothing but rolled his eyes, a flash of white caught his attention. There she was! The woman was standing in front of the bar, flirting and laughing with the man behind it. Anger bubbled within Homelander at the sight, which once again confused him. This was just a simple young woman, she meant nothing to him, and yet Homelander found himself walking in her direction.

“I’ll pay for whatever she has,” Homelander said grandly. “What would you like?”

Semira looked at the massive wall of blonde-hair and blue eyes. He towered over her, his white teeth were blinding, and he was undeniably sexy. His suit was made of blue cloth, he wore an American flag as a cape, and there were bizarre golden eagles on his shoulders. It was easy for a woman to become jelly from the way he was smiling at her, yet Semira wasn’t impressed.

“Is that supposed to be your way of breaking the ice?” Semira asked. “Because it’s quite weak.”

Homelander’s heart froze in his chest, his mouth flapping open and shut like a fish gasping for air. He hadn’t expected that response, and Homelander didn’t know what to say.

“That’s what I thought,” Semira said, sliding down from her seat.

Homelander watched as the young woman sauntered away, his jaw on the ground. Never had someone treated him like that, people normally flocked to him, they worshiped him. This young woman, this nobody, acted as if Homelander was nothing.

And it made Homelander want her greater than before.

* * *

“I wonder how big Homelander’s cock is,” Frenchie said in Semira’s earpiece.

“Can’t be that big,” Mother’s Milk replied. “Dude has a serious Napoleon Complex.”

“Well I wasn’t going to find out,” Semira said, walking down one of the many halls. “Guy gives me the fucking creeps. Just was staring at me, as if he could see through my clothes.”

“Good thing I lined it with zinc,” Zahera replied.

“Good, because I was close to ripping his damn eyes out,” Semira said. “So, am I close?”

Not far, the large crowd has assembled inside the largest room to welcome this mysterious new member to The Seven. Semira didn’t care though, she was here to simply place in these bugs, then she was to get out of here.

“Down the hall to the left is the office of Stillwell,” Frenchie said.

“Found it,” Semira whispered, opening the door.

Quietly, she closed it behind her but stopped. Using her enhanced sight, she scanned the room for any tripwires or alarm devices but found none. Working quickly, Semira placed the semi-invisible bugs into place and was about to leave, before something caught her attention. The laptop on the desk was on, the low glow of the screen illuminating in the darkness.

“Hey, guys?” Semira whispered. “What’s it worth, seeing what Stillwell has in mind for the supes?”

“Priceless,” Butcher replied. “Why?”

“Idiot left his computer on,” Semira replied, quickly sitting down.

She moved the mouse and saw that the laptop was password-protected, but that wasn’t going to be any problem. Using her thermal vision, Semira could see the buttons that were pressed the most, thus most likely being the buttons for the password. Using the hem of her dress as a ‘glove’, Semira pressed them smirking in triumph when the computer unlocked.

“Got it,” she said aloud.

“What do you see?” Butcher asked.

“Lost, young lady?” a familiar voice said, making Semira jerk her head up.

Lights flooded the room as Semira found herself face-to-face with the supe man from the bar. He chuckled and walked to her, closing the laptop slowly.

“I repeat,” he said. “Are you lost?”

Semira weighed her options. She could pretend that she didn’t speak English, but he had already heard her talk before. She could pretend she worked at Vought International, but at the same time figured he knew everyone who already did. Semira was stuck, and there was one thing she always knew to do when she was stuck: she fought.

Back at The Boys hideout, Butcher groaned in frustration. The bugs that Semira had planted earlier allowed them to see everything and that meant the scene that was unfolding right then.

“Fucking hell… Zahera,” Butcher groaned, slapping his forehead. “Your bitch is an amateur.”

Zahera shot him a dirty look. “Shut the hell up, you English bastard and watch.”

“It appears I am,” Semira said, standing up. “I thought this was someplace else. Thank you for setting me straight, excuse me.”

She tried to walk around the man but he grabbed her arm in his iron grip, actually making Semira freeze. Never was there someone who could hold her so securely, and for a moment it made her mind go blank.

The Man meanwhile chuckled and shook his finger at her, clicking his tongue. “Do you really think I’d just let you go? You know, you almost had me fooled there, up in the bar. I should have known that Vought would send one of their whores to seduce me. Almost worked.” He yanked her close. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t send Stillwell back your head!”

“Because I don’t work for the bastard,” Semira snarled through gritted teeth. “Now let me go before I hurt you.”

The Man tossed his head back in laughter, and instead tightened his grip, pulling her close. “You really think I’m just going to let you go? Now you’re going to tell me what you were looking at, right now.”

“Or?” Semira asked.

Homelander’s eyes began to glow red. “Or else I’m going to get very, very, upset.

Normal people would become terrified at the sight of Homelander’s heat vision, but Semira was not a normal person.

She looked into his glowing eyes with confidence and smirked. “Cute.”

Pulling her head back, Semira slammed her forehead against her. Stunned, Homelander’s grip loosened upon her arm, and Semira seized the chance. Leaping, she round-house kicked him hard in the face, knocking him back. Homelander’s hand went to his face, holding his head as he fought his doubling vision. When he lowered his hand, the last sight that Homelander would ever think to see, greeted him.

Blood was on his fingers.

He was bleeding.

This female no-body had caused Homelander to bleed. He wasn’t the only one to see this. Back at their hideout, Butcher, Hughie, Mother’s Milk, Frenchie, Zahera, and The Female had seen Semira draw The Homelander’s blood.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Butcher whispered. “She can hurt him…”

“Told you,” Zahera said, smirking.

Homelander lowered his hand, slowly rising to his feet, his eyes burning with hatred. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Semira said, getting into a fighting stance. “Well, come on then!”

Homelander took a deep breath and summoned his heat vision, the beams blasting out with a clear intent to kill. Semira thrust out her hands, her palms deflecting the blasts and distracting the Homelander enough for her to lunge at him faster than he could process. Semira’s right knuckle cracked against the Homelander’s cheek, her left-hand punching so hard in his stomach that it knocked the wind out of him. With him doubled over, Semira clasped her hands together and raised them, bringing them hard across the back of the Homelander’s head; knocking him out cold.

“Holy… fuck…” Butcher gasped. “She just K.O’ed the bastard in five minutes flat.”

“Told you,” Zahera said. “I trained her myself, Semi. Come on back.”

Semira nodded and walked to the nearest window, opened it, and took off into the night sky.

* * *

**Semira's outfit to the Party**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you enjoyed the chapter. Just wanted to clarify something for future chapters: Semira is stronger than The Homelander. He might be bigger than her, but she's smarter and has had actual training on how to use her powers in times of battle/helping people.
> 
> Unlike Homelander (and the other supes made by Vought) who were forbidden to do so by order of the American government. Picture Semira and Homelander as the opposite sides of Superman. Semira symbolizes the Superman that we know and love while Homelander is his dark half. If Homelander got angry enough, he might be able to overpower Semira, but only briefly. Semira has had training since the time she was a baby and knows how to control herself, for Homelander this is no such thing.
> 
> You'll get a better understanding/picture of the extent of Semira's powers next chapter.


	4. Chapter 3: A New Player in the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homelander tries to figure out who was that woman who knocked him out, wounding his pride. 
> 
> Starlight thinks about life with The Seven after being forced into blowing the Deep and getting a taste of the new ‘world’. 
> 
> At the end of the chapter, a plane's engine is blown and Semira finally reveals herself.

Homelander wanted to smack the smug looks off Stillwell and Queen Maeve’s faces. For the last fifteen minutes, the two had been laughing, unable to hold back after Homelander had finished telling them what had happened at the party last night.

He gritted his teeth. Who were they to laugh at him? He could easily squash the two of them like the bugs they were, yet Homelander dared not… for now anyway.

“Are you finished?” Homelander asked through his clenched teeth.

Stillwell wiped a tear from his eye. “I-I can’t breathe…”

‘If only…’ Homelander thought, turning to look at Queen Maeve.

Queen Maeve coughed as she struggled to maintain her composure. “So, let me get this straight: that woman that you were eyeing all night, turned out to be some type of spy. You follow her in here, catch her snooping, get ready to bring her in, only for her to royally kick your ass?”

Homelander balled his fists behind his back. “I wouldn’t put it like that…”

“And yet, it happened,” Stillwell said, slowly catching his breath and walking to his desk.

Typing on his computer, the holographic pictures of the Woman in White—as Homelander called her—appeared in the air around them.

“Whoever she is,” Stillwell said. “She was quite bold to just walk in here.”

“You able to trace the bugs she planed?” Homelander asked.

Stillwell shook his head. “Easily could have been bought anywhere, they’re that generic. We have her picture but… doesn’t do much… You said she spoke with an accent?”

Homelander nodded. “Yes.”

“So, she’s not American… that gives us at least a clue of her background,” Stillwell said, crossing his arms. “Still, this worries me on how she could have hurt you.”

Homelander glared at him. “She did not… hurt me…”

Stillwell rolled his eyes. “Right, you broke your nose and busted your ribs yourself.”

Homelander loomed over the man, his towering height made Stillwell seem so small and insignificant. He was, of course, it wouldn’t take much for Homelander to snap Stillwell’s neck or fling him out of the window, but Homelander stayed his hand. Stillwell was a thorn in his side, but Homelander was smart enough to know that killing him would cause a bit of a problem.

“I told you,” Homelander said slowly. “She got a cheap shot.”

“Right…” Stillwell said, leaning back in his chair. “Until we find this woman, I suggest you sleep with one eye open and keep the public in your favor. I’ll work some magic on my end, see if I can find any more information about her.”

Homelander sniffed with indifference and stormed from Stillwell’s office, exiting Vought International’s building, and waited for Queen Maeve. It annoyed him beyond reason that she was taking her time to come out, and instead his mind began to wonder… towards the Woman in White.

He didn’t know how she managed to hurt him, but Homelander didn’t care. She had made a fool of him in the eyes of Stillwell and his primary partner, and that was no excuse. She was going to pay for this.

* * *

Annie January had been staring at the ceiling all night long. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her mouth was dry, her gums felt raw and sore from the hour-long scrubbing she had given them.

It was her first night in The Seven’s floating HQ, and Annie felt as if she was a stranger in a foreign land.

Growing up, Annie had idolized The Seven, she had worshiped them. More than anything, Annie wanted to be apart of them.

Now, she wanted out, no matter the costs.

Last night’s party had started off like a dream. Annie was introduced as the newest member of the Seven, everyone seemed friendly enough, Homelander acted like a supportive father-figure. What made the night the best was The Deep, a supe that Annie had a crush on for as long as she could remember.

But The Deep quickly revealed himself to be anything but the chivalrous, ocean-loving superhero that was on the posters Annie had in her old bedroom back home.

The Deep had appeared at her side out of the blue during the party, offering her a tour of the building, only to corner her in one of the offices. He had dropped his pants and shoved his cock in his face, demanding Annie give him a blowjob.

Annie, of course, was rightfully furious and refused, she even causes several of the television screens to crack in her anger, but then The Deep said something that struck her.

“I just want to see how badly you want to be in The Seven,” the Deep had said. “I mean… I’m kind of a big deal around here, Homelander’s right hand. Would be a shame if I told him how… unwilling you are to be a team player.”

Annie had bitten her lip, knowing she was trapped. She hadn’t expected that dropping to her knees and giving one of her favorite heroes a blowjob would how she’d spend her first night as a member of the Seven. Yet, it was.

Now, all Annie wanted to do was stay in her room and block the rest of the world out; but a knock on her door told her otherwise.

“Starlight?” a feminine voice said on the other side. “Starlight, are you awake?”

It had to be one of the many maintenance workers, Annie knew. There was a couple dozen of them that lived/worked in the floating building, making sure everything ran well. Annie had met a couple of them at the party the other night, although Queen Maeve had said they weren’t really supposed to fraternize.

“Yeah,” Annie answered. “I’m up…”

“Homelander has called a meeting for everyone,” the Worker said. “He wants you to be there.”

Annie knew better than to refuse the Homelander, and so she forced herself to rise from her bed to get ready. For a moment she stopped and looked at her costume that was in her closet, and she felt… a calm comes over her.

‘That costume means something,’ Annie told herself. ‘No matter what these fucker’s say or do, I’m an equal member of The Seven, and they aren’t do anything about it.’

After a speedy shower and putting on her costume, Annie hurried to the meeting room where The Seven sat to talk. The giant U table was covered with food, with the various members getting what they wanted before taking their seats. Speaking of seats, Annie noticed that a chair was fashioned in a way that it mimicked her costume, and a beaming Homelander stood behind it.

“Good morning, Starlight,” Homelander said grandly. “Sleep well?”

Annie fought against the urge to hurl. “Well enough. Might have had too much to drink.”

“That can happen,” The Deep said smugly. “Girls swallow much more than they can handle.”

Annie grit her teeth behind her perfect smile then cleared her throat. “Is… Is that chair mine?”

“Of course,” Homelander said, patting the chair. “Hope you like it, have a seat.”

Annie slowly walked to the chair, turning around as Homelander pulled it out for her, even pushed her forward comfortably.

“Are you hungry?” Homelander asked.

“A-A little,” Annie stammered.

Before she could blink, Homelander had a plate of fresh fruit and hot pastries in his hands as well as a cup of juice, and placed it in front of her, smiling.

“Here you go,” Homelander said. “Hope you like the chocolate croissants, they were flown in directly from Paris.”

“T-Thank you…” Annie stammered, not knowing what else to say.

“So,” Homelander said, clapping his hands together as he walked to his head chair. “What are everyone’s plans for the day?”

“Vera Wang has asked me to sit in on her latest fashion show,” Queen Maeve answered, sipping a glass of rosé.

One by one the other members of the Seven listed off various events that they had planned, only Annie didn’t have anything on her schedule.

“I-I don’t know what to do,” Annie said in a tiny voice, afraid she might seem insignificant.

“That’s perfectly fine, Starlight,” Homelander said, leaning back in his chair. “Let me think… you can go on patrol, perhaps.”

Annie’s heart flipped in her chest with joy, she nodded eagerly, sitting up in her chair. “Really? I can do that?”

Homelander rubbed his chin. “I don’t see why not. All you need is…”

Red lights began to flash, the scream of an alarm piercing the air. Annie tensed as Homelander’s face grew dark and he turned around to the computer behind him, typing on the keyboard.

“What… What’s going on?” Annie whispered to Queen Maeve.

“Some idiot needs us to save him,” Queen Maeve replied, her voice dripping with uninterest. “Wonder what type of cat is stuck in a tree this time?”

“No cat,” Homelander said between clenched teeth. “A plane is falling out of the sky.”

* * *

Semira sat in the middle of a mountain of comic books, reading over the origins and stories of The Seven. Not far from her, behind a sewing machine, sat Zahera, hard work on a secret project she refused to tell Semira what it was. In one of the many other rooms were the other Boy’s, no longer were they in that dirty, nasty, warehouse. Instead, they were renting an apartment in the Flatiron Building, paid for by Zahera under a fake name of course.

“People actually believe this stuff?” Semira asked, looking up from her comic books.

“Humans have a way of needing to distract themselves from their own problems and placing them on others,” Zahera replied, not looking up from her sewing machine. “Supes help this. Gives them someone to look up too.”

“Too bad they don’t know the truth,” Semira mumbled under her breath.

After she returned from her little ‘scuffle’ with Homelander, she found the Boy’s swelling to congratulate her. Zahera was worried that she might get hurt, but Semira assured her that everything was fine. Butcher even was nice to her after that, but Semira still didn’t trust him.

But after a quick shower and helping them move to this new apartment, Semira had spent the rest of her time reading these comics that Hughie had. It was a mountain of paper, but Semira was a quick study, before long, these comics gave her all she needed to know about the Seven.

“So… what our next move?” Semira asked, looking up from the comic books.

Zahera opened her mouth only to be silenced when Butcher barged in and grabbed the television remote, pointing it at the screen to turn it on.

“… You heard it right,” a Newscaster was saying. “According to our reports, Flight 242, heading from New Miami to New York has gotten out of control. The pilots don’t know what’s wrong with it, but the metal bird is refusing to listen to orders.”

“Fucking hell…” Mother’s Milk murmured under his breath.

Semira arched an eyebrow, looking to Butcher. “What’s the problem? Can’t the Seven take care of this?”

A look passed between Butcher and Mother’s Milk before the British man turned to Semira.

“The supes aren’t apart of the military or anything,” Butcher replied. “They aren’t allowed to deal with… internal matters or official business. If that plan was flying over international waters, they might do it; but they can’t, it’s flying over the States. No way Stillwell will let them touch that plane.”

Semira stood to her feet. “But they can’t just let those people die! They’re innocent!”

Butcher threw up his hands. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. The Seven can’t touch this because they work for Vought.”

“But you don’t,” Zahera said, finally turning from her project.

“What do you mean?” Semira asked, confused.

Zahera smirked. “You don’t work for the United States, nor does Vought own you like the other supes here. You have no loyalty to anyone, thus can lend your hand.”

Butcher arched his eyebrow. “You’re sending her in the field? Isn’t that a little risky with her being green and all that?”

“My daughter is far from green,” Zahera replied firmly. “I’ve trained her myself, and I know Semi can handle this.”

Semira stood straighter, basking in her mother’s praise as she gave her a small nod. “I’ll go.”

She turned to leave but Zahera called after her, “Wait!”

“What?” Semira said, turning around, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“You can’t go saving the world looking like that,” Zahera said, holding up what she had been working on. “Come on, I’ll help you put it on.”

* * *

Inside the First-Class cabin of Flight 242, a five-year-old girl clutched her stuffed animal close to her body as she trembled with fear. Next, to her, the Girl’s mother was frantically dialing on her phone, begging for help from anyone. She wasn’t the only one doing this, other adults on the plane were calling the police, the navy, the air force; anyone that they believed would be of help.

The flight from Miami had begun well, the Girl had spent the time watching videos on her iPad. Then, out of nowhere, one of the engines blew up. Now they were hurling towards their deaths in a fiery metal cage, the thought of which rightfully terrified everyone.

A teenage girl on the other side of the plane was live-streaming what was happening on Instagram, her tear-streaked face in full view of the camera. Although she only had a couple of hundred followers at the beginning of the video, thousands were watching it, trying to figure out what was going on. The Teenager’s mother was watching the news and saw that they were using her daughter’s video on their segment, alerting more people to what was happening.

“… I don’t know who is watching this,” the Teenager was crying. “But please… I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die!”

The Little Girl looked out of her window and saw something in the distance, a small dot that was getting closer and closer. As it neared, the Little Girl would make out the shape of the object, and she tugged on her mother’s arm.

“Mommy,” the Girl said. “A woman is flying towards the plane.”

The Mother looked at her daughter with an arched eyebrow. “What do you mean a woman is flying toward the plane? That’s impossible unless it’s a…”

“A supe!” the Teenager cried out, pointing her camera at the window. “A supe’s came to help us!”

Semira was flying as fast as she could toward the plane, her cape snapping in the wind.

“They’ve spotted you,” Zahera said into Semira’s earpiece. “Good, time to shine sēti hit͟s’ani liji. You got this.”

Semira nodded and flew faster, flying up close to the plane and grabbing one of the door handles. Thankfully, the people within the plane knew to get far away from the doors as Semira ripped it on, the air sucking out anything that wasn’t strapped down. Putting the door back into place, Semira used her heat vision to seal it shut before turning to face the people within the airplane.

The last thing that Semira expected was for these people to rush up to her like a flock of pigeons, all hugging her, touching her, cheering she was there. Some were weeping with joy.

“Thank god you’re here!” a woman said.

“Who are you?” A man asked.

Semira didn’t answer and instead turned to walk to where the pilots were, opening the door. “What’s the problem?”

The Pilots were frantically struggling with the controls, although their faces melted with relief when they saw her.

“One of the engines has blown,” one of the Pilots replied. “I can’t control it! If I don’t steady us, we’re going to crash into the beach!”

Semira leaned over the controls and saw that they were rapidly nearing the ground, which didn’t give them much time.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Semira said, leaving to go to the door she had sealed.

The flight passengers all flocked to her once again and Semira put on a dazzling smile.

“I’m going to go balance the plane,” she said, aware of the various cameras on her. “Everyone, please strap yourself down in your seats.”

Semira waited until everyone did just that before going to the door, ripping it open once again, sealing it, then flying to the wing that had the blown engine. Fire and smoke were flying in all directions, and Semira could see that there was nothing for her to grab onto… so she was going to have to be creative.

Flying down to the bottom of the plane, Semira grabbed the bottom of the plane. The metal felt like tissue paper in her palms, and Semira had to force herself to not shove her palms right through it.

“Good girl,” Zahera said in her earpiece. “Remember, you’re stronger than you know.”

“Alright,” Semira said. “So, I have to go easy on it.”

Turning herself around, Semira got a good grip on the metal and locked her arms in place. Grunting softly, she began to flight backward, fighting against the current flow of the plane to make it slow down.

Inside the metal haul, everyone was jerked backward, but since they had listened to Semira and buckled their seatbelts no one was flung about. The pilots looked through the windows and saw to their rising delight that the plane was no longer barreling towards the ground but was instead slowing down. It wasn’t by much, but with each passing second, Semira could feel the pressure of the plane releasing.

“It looks like that supe is taking us to land on Orchard Beach,” the Teenager said to her Instagram followers.

That was all the police and newscasters needed to know.

Before long a crowd had gathered at Orchard Beach. Police officers, paramedics, firefighters, bystanders, newscasters. A crowd of hundreds waited upon the white sand, waiting for the plane to appear.

Semira saw them out of the corner of her eye and turned herself back around for her dramatic entrance. Supporting the plane upon her shoulders, Semira flew towards the beach, into the flashing lights of cameras and cheering screams of bystanders.


	5. Chapter 4. Planting Seeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semira becomes a household name over night.

Semira carefully placed the plane on the water, as the beach wasn’t large enough to accommodate it. Her ears suddenly perked up, as in the distance she heard the subtle noise of capes flapping in the wind. Someone was flying in her direction, no, not just someone, Semira could tell it was several people.

Her eyes raised in the direction of the noise to see several members of The Seven flying in her direction, led by one and only Homelander.

Perfect…

Semira pretended to not notice them as she helped the various people from the plane and onto the beach, the Seven helpings. Homelander, Semira noticed, stayed close to her side, as if he was trying to make sure she wasn’t going to just fly off. That was the plan, at least Semira thought it was, but it was going to be difficult to execute with The Seven behind so close.

When the last person was brought to shore, Semira found herself surrounded by newscasters and cellphones, everyone asking a thousand questions at once.

“Who are you?” one asked.

“Are you apart of The Seven?” asked another.

“Where did you come from?” asked another.

“Who designed your outfit?” asked another.

Semira didn’t reply to any of these questions. She merely smiled, waved, then took off into the sky, but it didn’t take her long to realize that she was being followed. The Young Woman turned around, flying backward as she crossed her arms at Homelander.

“Need help with something?” she asked.

“Who are you?” Homelander asked.

Semira smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I’m following you, to find out,” Homelander replied.

Semira chuckled. “Then you’re going to have to fly a lot faster.”

With a wink, she summoned her speed and flew away, faster than Homelander thought possible. He started to go after her, but this woman had seemingly vanished in thin air.

“Homelander, what the fuck are you doing?” Queen Maeve hissed in his earpiece. “Where are you?”

“I was trying to follow that woman,” Homelander replied.

“Forget about her, the press is asking questions that I don’t know to answer,” Queen Maeve said. “Get your ass back over here before Vought sends someone to clean up this mess.”

Gritting his teeth, Homelander flew back to where the Young Woman had placed the plane. Now it was his turn to be surrounded by news outlets and flashing cameras, but unlike the Young Woman, Homelander was used to it.

“We’re glad that everyone on that flight is safe,” Homelander said grandly, dramatically spreading his arms. “It would have been such a tragedy if they had all perished.”

“The woman, Homelander,” a female reporter said. “Who is she?”

“We don’t know,” Homelander replied. “She… just recently appeared.”

“Do you think she could be a part of the Seven?” another asked.

“Maybe,” Homelander replied. “If that is her wish.”

Queen Maeve looked at Homelander, confused. Stillwell was going to have a couple of choice words for them because of his answer. There was no way that young woman was just going to magically be on their team, but then again, if she was good press for them, miracles could happen.

While the Seven continued to be mobbed by the press and media, Semira made her way back to The Boys hideout. The young superheroine landed in the abandoned warehouses by the docks and stopped to check to make sure she wasn’t followed. Once she was sure, Semira went into one of the empty pods to change into her civilian clothes. Hailing a taxi, Semira took it to the Flatiron Building and went to the top floor.

“You’re back!” Zahera gasped when Semira entered.

Semira smiled as her mother rushed to her, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug. “Yes, I’m back. How did I do?”

“Pretty good for a newbie,” Mother’s Milk remarked, giving her a thumbs-up.

“C'était parfait!” Frenchie said, dramatically blowing her a kiss.

“Alright, I guess,” Butcher said, shrugging. “For a supe.”

“I guess that’s your way of a compliment,” Semira said, crossing her arms.

“Take it or leave it, girl,” Butcher snapped.

Semira rolled her eyes, deciding to take it. Zahera pulled her to the TV and turned on the news, where footage of her saving the airplane played on a loop. The newscasters were talking about her, her of all people!

“Turn it up,” Semira asked. “Please?”

Mother’s Milk easily obeyed.

“… We don’t know who this young woman is, nor what her superpowers are, but she appears to favor our very own Homelander,” a Newscaster was saying.

“Think she might be someone special to him?” another Newscaster asked.

“That’ll be surprising,” the first Newscaster remarked. “Homelander hasn’t been seen on the arm of anyone lately… perhaps she’s his new love interest.”

Butcher grit his teeth. Snatching the remote from Mother’s Milk, he turned off the TV. “Well, that’s just fucking great. We give the girl a fucking cape, and they are shipping her with that… that… that mindless Vought drone.”

“Shipping?” Semira repeated, looking to her mother for an explanation.

“He means they newscasters are pairing the two of you,” Zahera said. “Or at least trying to… romantically.”

Semira’s nose wrinkled as she frowned. Being romantically involved with anyone wasn’t the part of the plan to bring down Vought, let alone this Homelander.

“So, what’s zhe plan?” Frenchie asked. “Zhe girl did well.”

“And she will continue to do so,” Zahera ruled, turning back to Semira. “Mira, my dear, you will continue to play the superheroine. Rescue people. Make the public adore you. Make front-page news. You need to catch the attention of Vought. If there’s one thing I know about them, is that they can’t resist the scent of money. Become a household name and they’ll do whatever it takes to bring you onto their payroll.”

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks, Semira did exactly what her mother suggested.

She watched the news for anything that the normal police couldn’t do themselves, then acted. Normally she arrived quicker than The Seven would, and thus it was her face that the newscasters would have on their channels.

Before long, all of the United States was cheering for and hungering for more of Semira.

Her actions have the desired effect because Vought was unable to answer any of the questions placed upon them about her origins. According to Butcher, Vought had fabricated the origins for most of—if not all—of the supes on their payroll. Since Semira wasn’t taking their money, they couldn’t answer the questions that the media and public wanted about her.

The same went for the Seven.

People began to compare Semira to Homelander, as it was quickly revealed their powers were quite similar. Some began to say that she was stronger than him. Some even began to say that she was better than him.

As more and more people began to say this, a thought came into Semira’s head. The public was always one for soppy romance stories. She recalled remembering magazines called tabloids, that talked about the intimate lives of heroes and heroines. The public seemed to hunger for stuff like this. Perhaps she could exploit this in some way.

Finally, after about two weeks since her in New York, Vought held a press conference with Homelander and Queen Maeve as their mouthpieces.

“We have taken notice of this mysterious new heroine, who seems to be helping us,” Queen Maeve was saying. “And so, we have decided to…”

Homelander shoved her aside to be front and center as if he couldn’t wait to spill the beans. “And so we have decided to formally invite this mysterious heroine to our HQ. There, she will be invited to join the Seven, if that is her wish.”

Semira dropped the shrimp egg roll she was eating to look at her mother, Zahera’s jaw was to the floor. While they had expected Vought to make a move, this wasn’t exactly what Zahera and Semira had in mind.

“No fuckin’ way…” Butcher grumbled.

“What… what do I do…?” Semira stammered, looking to her mother.

Zahera frowned, standing up she began to pace the room. “We… We can roll with this…”

“How?” Semira asked.

“Make them work for you,” Zahera replied. “The public is on your side, use it.”

“But… But what if it’s a trap?” Semira asked.

Zahera smirked. “Who can take you down, my Dear? You know your strength. Just do what I taught you, and everything will be alright. Now listen to me, here’s the plan…”

A couple of days later, a large group of people was gathered in front of the Seven’s Headquarters. Newscasters and innocent bystanders, all with their phones and cameras out, all inching for a glimpse of the mysterious young Heroine.

Meanwhile, inside, Homelander prowled the halls, fixing his hair, straightening his clothes, checking his teeth in a mirror. He didn’t know why he was fussing over himself so much, after all, it was just a woman coming to greet them. But why did this woman make him feel so… so… so weird? It just didn’t make sense to Homelander, he couldn’t put words how she made him feel.

“Are you done stalking around the HQ like a damn lion in a cage?” Queen Maeve asked.

Homelander turned to see her leaning against the wall. “What?”

Queen Maeve smirked, chuckling to herself. “Wow… she’s really got you worked up, doesn’t she?”

Homelander narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about.”

Queen Maeve gestured to him. “This! All this… It’s quite amusing to watch. Don’t recall you getting this worked up when we dated.”

Homelander’s mind went back, remembering when they were together. Although they had told each other that it was both just sex and for the cameras, part of Homelander wondered if she did feel anyway towards him. He sure as hell didn’t care about her, all he wanted was the sex, but she was a woman after all and they tended to have ‘feelings’ toward their sexual partners.

“You never gave me a reason too,” Homelander replied.

“Good,” Queen Maeve said. “That was my intention. You weren’t that good a lay anyway.”

Homelander’s blue eyes began to glow red as he gritted his teeth, taking a step forward, only to freeze when he heard cheering outside.

“She’s here!” people were yelling. “She’s here!”

Queen Maeve smirked. “Shall we go greet our newest member?”

Homelander’s eyes slowly dimmed. “After you.”

* * *

**Semira's outfit**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I'm so sorry that I haven't been updating. I was pretty busy with life and I lacked a bit of inspiration. However, I'm proud to say I'm back and plan to update more frequently!
> 
> The next chapter is the big confrontation with Vought and Semira! I'd love to hear what you guys think will happen, as well as your thoughts on the story so far!


	6. Chapter 5: The Have's and the Have Not's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homelander and Sermia talk...

Semira’s cape snapped in the wind as she floated above The Seven’s HQ. Below her, the cheering crowd looked like ants to her, tiny beings that either shouted her name or tried to take pictures. These were the people that Semira was going to have to protect and serve, at least, that was she was supposed to.

Her mother had taught Semira all she had to know to be a hero, how to be a good hero. Kiss babies, protect the weak, stop the bad guys. Yet, in the back of Semira’s mind, the young Woman worried that it wasn’t doing to be that simple. While Zahera seemed to trust Butcher, Semira wasn’t so sure.

The hairs on the back of Semira’s neck always stood on end whenever Butcher looked at her. Semira was the most powerful person on Earth, save maybe the Homelander; Butcher was nothing compared to her. Yet, fear danced its cold fingers up and down Semira’s spine whenever Butcher’s blue eyes rested on her form. Every single time Butcher talked, Semira could tell he was telling a half-truth. People’s heartrates always increased when they lied, and Butcher was no different. Something was wrong with that man, and Semira would figure it out one day.

But today was not that day.

Semira’s green eyes narrowed as a red, white, and blue figure exited the building below her. Leaping in the air, the figure flew in her direction, revealing themselves to be Homelander.

“You came,” Homelander said.

Semira smirked, remembering the part she had to play. Slowly, she floated closer to him before she began to circle him in the air. “You called, why wouldn’t I come?”

Homelander swallowed, his blue eyes forced on her form. For the first time, the first real-time, he could see her costume, ow that this Woman wasn’t flying away. It looked tribal, Homelander believed, yet fit her lush, muscular curves and frame in all the right places. Homelander had no shame in loosing at her bosom, the breasts pushed up and accented by the half-corset that the Woman wore. Truthfully, in Homelander’s opinion, she looked regal, like a queen.

_And every King…needed a Queen… With a body like that…I wouldn’t mind mixing business with pleasure…_

“Are you going to keep eye-fucking me, or are you going to invite me in?” Semira asked, breaking Homelander’s thoughts.

“A-A-Are you going to tell me your name?” Homelander stammered, trying to recover.

“Depends on if we’re talking secret identities or the names the Media wants to call us,” Semira replied, her lips curved in a half-smile.

Homelander spread his hands. “If we’re going to be working together, I don’t see why we can’t trust each other with our secrets.”

Semira stopped her circling. Leaning forward, she reached out with her hand, her white and dark-purple painted nails softly scraping against Homelander’s cheek. “Who said that I trust you?” she whispered.

Homelander was transfixed by the earthy scent of the Woman’s perfume. Part of him wanted to close his eyes and rub his cheek against her palm. But before Homelander could do anything, the Woman pulled her hand away with a soft giggle, those green eyes sparkling.

“Like I said before, are you going to invite me in?” She asked.

Homelander swallowed the lump in his throat. He wanted to punch himself in the balls for acting so stupid for falling for this stranger so quickly. “Yes,” he said. “I believe we should go inside.”

* * *

Homelander and Semira walked side-by-side down the main hallway of The Seven’s HQ. A silent, tense, air, was between the two; well, more-so, Semira could sense that Homelander was tense.

The Young Woman could smell the lust and longing rolling off the alleged ‘hero’ from a mile away. He kept on sneaking side-ways glances at her, opening his mouth as if to speak, only to look away when Semira caught him.

“You’re not leading me into a trap, are you?” Semira teased.

Homelander looked away. He had considered it. In the back of his mind, Homelander thought of having Black Noir, A-Train, and The Deep hide and attack The Woman; when they arrived.

As if reading his mind, Semira replied. “I would so hate to hurt your friends. After all, you remember what I did to you…don’t you?”

Heat rushed into Homelander’s face…and to his groin. He had never been beaten before; in any fight, he had been designed to be unbeatable, the ultimate hero. Yet, this Woman, who had appeared out of no where, had managed to knock him out in less than ten seconds.

“No,” Homelander replied truthfully, putting his hands behind his back, trying to regain some of his lost composure. “You’re not walking into a trap.”

“You really don’t know how to process me,” Semira said abruptly. “Do you?”

Homelander arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Your heart elevated the moment you saw me in the sky,” Semira replied. “And from the way one, your hands are trembling…you want to slam me against one of these walls, or pull me into one of the dark rooms and have my legs on your shoulders.”

Homelander stopped, his feet feeling like lead. “No…you’re wrong. I want to get this meeting over with.”

Semira chuckled, her hip brushing against his as she strode past him. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Homelander knew he would be the one leading here, but he didn’t want the Woman to see how she had affected him.

She was right.

Ever since that night in the party, Homelander had woken up with the most painful of morning woods. His dreams were filled with nothing but her. Now that the Woman was here, standing next to him, Homelander was struggling to hold back his urges; and Homelander never held back his urges. Homelander was used to doing whatever the hell he wanted, to whoever the hell he wanted. Yet this was a person that Homelander couldn’t bend to his will. He couldn’t threaten to spend a night in his bed.

This Woman held all the cards in her hand, and Homelander hated it.

He took a deep breath. Homelander’s obsessions never lasted long. They bearly lasted longer than a week. Homelander just had to bide his time. Then everything would return to normal.

Homelander quickened his steps, catching up to The Woman. He led her to the primary meeting room, pushing open the doors himself. The doors opened to reveal Stillwell, sitting at the head of the table.

“Hello there,” Stillwell said, his steely eyes fastened upon Semira. “I’m sure we have much to talk about…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> I'm so sorry that I haven't been around a lot, work and live has really been kicking me butt lately, but I'm going to try and update more. Short chapter, but I promise longer ones will be coming!
> 
> Enjoy! Tell me what you thought!


	7. Chapter 6: The One that Got Away

Although Semira had seen Stillwell plenty of times on television or listen to her mother speak about him, she never knew what to think of the man.

Stillwell wasn’t the one who had ordered her creation, but he was currently in charge of Vought. At least, that’s what Zahera thought. Part of her always believed there was one person in charge of Stillwell, the true handled of this puppetmaster.

But, at least for now, Stillwell called the shots, he wrote the checks, he oversaw everything. Stillwell was the most powerful man in the world, and yet he seemed so…underwhelming to Semira.

He looked like any average human, yet Semira knew it wasn’t his looks where Stillwell got its power.

It was his brain.

Stillwell was smart. He was charismatic. He had a silver tongue.

He was the perfect foil to Homelander, Semira knew. All she had to do was figure out how to get them to work against each other.

“So,” Stillwell said, standing from his seat. “You are the mysterious Heroine.”

“I suppose I am,” Semira said back, putting a hand on her hip.

Stillwell’s eyes slowly ranked Semira up and down, starting from her head and going down to her feet.

Homelander found that he didn’t like that. He didn’t know why, but it made him irritated that Stillwell was looking at this woman so…intensely.

“Please,” Stillwell said after a moment of silence. “Have a seat. We have much to talk about.”

Semira took the seat furthest away from Stillwell, while Homelander floated over to stand behind Stillwell. Again, Homelander didn’t like this. It made the man feel as if he was Stillwell’s lacky, bodyguard, or something; the complete opposite of what Homelander wanted to be.

“How about we start with your name?” Stillwell asked his eyes upon Semira. “And where are you from?”

“We could,” Semira said. “But why, when we both know your people are searching your database to find anything you can about me?”

Stillwell’s lips curved into the tiniest of smirks. “You’re not as dumb as I thought.”

“You’ll quickly learn that I’m many things, but dumb is not one of them.”

Stillwell leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “Then I suppose the true question is this: What do you want?”

Semira leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers against the armrest. “I do not know.”

“Come now,” Stillwell scoffed. “Everyone wants something. And as you say, it will only be a matter of time before my people uncover who you are. So, stop beating around the bush and tell me what is that you want?”

Semira’s green eyes shifted from Homelander to Stillwell, then back to Homelander. “Nothing and everything,” she replied, standing up.

Stillwell grit his teeth. This conversation was going nowhere! “Then, what is your price to be silent?”

Semira smirked, crossing her arms. “Ah, so that’s the true reason you called me here. You want to buy my silence. After all, how would it look to the world if their beloved superheroes were nothing more than rats made in a lab?”

Homelander growled as he took a step forward, but Stillwell raised his hand to still him.

“You know of your creation?” Stillwell asked.

“Of course,” Semira replied, putting her hands behind her back. “Just as I know about the true desires of Vought. You and I both know that’s not going to happen…at least, not now. Not to the Seven.”

“You act as if you’re different,” Stillwell commented. “What lab-made you?”

“Vought’s, of course,” Semira replied, her eyes traveling to Homelander. “In fact, your Golden Boy and I are not that far in age, or power, if we’re honest. The only difference is that I know how to control mine simultaneously. Meanwhile, your Golden Boy struggles every day against losing control.”

The desk that Homelander was gripping crumbled like tissue paper in his hands. “What do you know about me?” he bellowed.

Again, Semira smirked. “More than the both of you know.” She turned to Stillwell. “I’ll tell you what: I won’t tell your secrets, and you just…stay out of my way.”

“I can’t allow some rouge creation roaming the streets,” Stillwell snapped.

“You’ll allow it, because there is nothing you can do about it,” Semira replied. “Homelander, why don’t you walk me out?”

Homelander’s mouth was fixed to refuse, yet the way she spoke to Stillwell was an absolute turn on. He had never heard anyone dared use such a silver tongue to put down this man, and Homelander followed Semira out like an obedient puppy.

However, instead of going out the front door, Semira walked in the opposite direction.

“Where are you doing?” Homelander asked.

“Out the back,” Semira replied. “I don’t feel like going into all those flashing lights and questioning fans.”

Before she could take another step, Homelander grabbed Semira’s arm. The young woman allowed him to pull her into one of the backrooms, his chest pressing against hers.

“You are not a spy from Stillwell. No spy of his would dare speak to him like that. Who are you really working for?”

“Myself,” Semira replied, her green eyes meeting his blue.

Semira had never been this close to another person like her before. She doubted that anyone wouldn’t be trembling in front of Homelander, and yet here she was, unafraid.

_‘He acts tough,’ _Semira thought._ ‘But he’s hiding something… I need to play on this.’_

Homelander leaned close. “So tell me then, why are you here?”

“To find out the truth,” Semira replied. “I can crush anyone like an ant. Perhaps I wanted to find someone who might be almost as strong as I am. Or… my equal.”

Homelander slowly slid his left hand up Semira’s body. He traced the outline of her costume with his finger before caressing the bare skin right under her breasts. His thumb brushed against the gold and ruby amulet right above Semira’s heart before his hand shot out, grasping her throat.

“What’s to stop me from snapping your neck right here? Right now?”

Semira didn’t break eye contact. “Because you’re curious, just like I am.”

Homelander’s eyes narrowed, his grip on her throat tightened, but he didn’t feel her pulse hammer against his palm. Naturally, anyone should be shitting themselves by being this close to him, and yet…

_‘She’s perfectly calm,’ _Homelander thought._ ‘I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her. I need her around.’_

“So, are you going to join us?”

Semira lifted her chin, her lips positioned so that they were a mere hairs breath away. “Not by Stillwell.”

Homelander frowned. “What do you mean?”

By now, Homelander’s grip on her throat had gone slack, and Semira used this to advantage. Grabbing Homelander’s waist, she flipped them over so that he was the one now pressed against the wall.

Her hand to his chest, Semira slowly walked her fingers downwards.

“I won’t join the Seven if asked by Stillwell…” she whispered.

Homelander gulped, his voice cracking like a boy who’s balls had just dropped. “T-Then what would it take f-for you to j-join?”

Semira’s hands stopped at his belt, the dark beauty leaning close so that their lips once again were mere centimeters apart. “If you want me so badly… all you have to do is ask.”

Letting him go, Semira turned on her heel and marched out of the room. When Homelander realized what had happened, he hurried after her.

“Wait!” Homelander called out, his voice sounding needy like a child who’s favorite toy had been taken away.

Semira stopped as she opened the back door, then looked at him. “I wonder how much you’re willing to pay, Homelander.”

Homelander arched an eyebrow. “Pay for what?”

Semira looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “The price of freedom.”

Gathering herself, Semira took off into the sky, leaving behind a conflicted Homelander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S GETTING HOT IN HEERREE!
> 
> Hi guys! I know, I know, it's been a while since I posted a chapter on the book, but I've been busy with work, school, the normal stuff. At the same time, I have 2 other Fan Fictions I'm writing, and I need to space them out. I know this chapter is short, but it's meaningful, and I promise the next one is going to be both a lot longer, and have a LOT more action!
> 
> So, Semira has made a small little move on Homelander & met Stillwell. I hate to crush the dreams of future readers, but this is NOT going to be a pure love story. This is THE BOYS after all. Yes Semira is going to gain feelings for Homelander, yes Homelander is going to gain feelings for Semira; they'll have a relationship, but she's not going to make him 'go green'. He's not going to 'see the light' and become good, that's not who Homelander is down to the core.
> 
> But that doesn't mean we aren't going to get some drama, passion, arguments, fights, and of course SEX (and a BIG surprise at the end of the story).
> 
> Until then, tell me what you think so far of the story, do you like it? What are your predictions of the future? 
> 
> Next chapter we get back with Butcher and the Boys!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter! I hope that you enjoyed it. If you did, please don't hesitate to leave me a kudos or a comment. To be honest, I prefer comments because I would like to know what you think of the story so far.
> 
> Although my favorite FanFiction series to write is A Song of Ice and Fire related, I am quite a diverse writer having written for other shows/books such as Castlevania, The Boys, Marvel Comics (coming soon!), and more! Interested in reading my other work? Just click on my name, and it'll take you right too it!
> 
> Thank you, and happy reading!


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